


Howl

by mad_teagirl



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Armin/Annie - centric, AruAni, F/F, F/M, I have no idea how tags work, I swear to christ if you get past chapter one this is an Armin/Annie story, M/M, Marco and Annie are the best roommates ever?, Marco and Annie friendship, Multi, past reiner/annie/bertholdt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-24
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-02-10 05:27:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2012706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mad_teagirl/pseuds/mad_teagirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Annie Leonhardt is fourteen years old when she first turns. </p><p>But it's only when she moves to Trost that she discovers others like her outside of her pack.</p><p>And the people who hunt them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> This is absolute trash. But thanks to the awesome beta-ing skills of suchaprince, it is considerably less trash than it was before.
> 
> Thanks boo.
> 
>  
> 
> I totally have a tumblr if you're into that sort of thing  
> http://www.madteagirl.tumblr.com

**Howl:**

**Prologue**

Annie Leonhardt is, in most respects, a normal teenage girl.

 

She has never stepped a toe out of line in her entire life.

 

Nothing ever happens to Annie.

 

She worries about colleges, she shakes her father awake when he falls asleep at the kitchen table, reminds him about deadlines, packs her own lunch in the morning. Like she’s done every day since her mother left when she was eight years old.

 

But she's fourteen years old now, and while it's not uncommon for her father to be away from the house for days, getting up to God knows what, it's ten o’clock on a Tuesday, and he hasn’t been home for two days counting.

 

And there's this sound like something is ripping their backyard in half, and maybesomething is, their house backs up to the woods after all.

 

But maybe it's exactly because nothing ever happens to Annie that this time she goes outside, with a baseball bat, and decides to find out whatever that something is. Decides to keep looking even when the thing disappears into the woods, all low growls and flashing eyes.

 

Because nothing ever happens to Annie.

 

And this is what she thinks even as the thing comes out from behind the trees, knocking her to the ground, jaws snapping the wooden bat in half and claws raking down her shoulder and across her chest.

 

What she thinks are its teeth bury into the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

 

She's in the forest all night, but she doesn't really remember it after the shock transfers to numbness.

 

And she thinks she must be dying. Knows it. With each wet, shuddering, breath. Which is strange, and impossible, after all;

 

Nothing ever happens to Annie.

 

The sun comes up and her pajamas are soaked through with blood and dew, and she's vaguely aware that her father has gathered her into his arms, breathing "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" against her hair as he carries her.

 

But it seems quiet and far away.

 

And she wonders if it'll be like they say; if there'll be bright lights and her mother's laughter.

 

**

 

She wakes to the pop and hiss of fluorescent light bulbs and the weight of her father's head on her folded hands.

 

The whispered apology is still there, under his breath over and over like a mantra.

 

"It's a miracle, Mr. Leonhardt" the nurse says, a placating hand on her father's back. "Her wounds are nearly completely healed. She's lucky to be alive".

 

"You don't know what you're fucking talking about," her father growls, his voice a rumble against her stomach. The nurse takes a step back, and another, and then all but skitters out of the room.

 

Annie leaves the hospital the next day with hardly more than bruises. The claw marks nearly faded. The ribs that had cracked under the creature's weight on top of her are close to mended. Only the deep ring of the animal's teeth marks in her flesh remain an angry blood red against her pale skin.

 

And of course, everything changes after this.

 

Because that's the way these stories always go.

 

**

 

It’s just little things at first; her hearing is amplified, her vision is close to perfect, and her sense of smell…

 

…it’s early on that she notices the particular scents things take on. Most people smell just like soap, perfume. Ordinary.

 

But every so often she catches the scent of something unusual, intriguing, and it’s never attached to something normal. She’s confused at first, about how she had never noticed before that her father smells of fresh moss and old oak trees after the first rain of the season.

 

Then the first full moon comes.

 

And honestly, she’s terrified.

 

There’s a pull in her chest towards the dark woods and an odd vibrating underneath her skin, like something trying to get out. So she follows it, the odd feeling, out into the forest, with no idea where she’s going to. The moon reaches its fullest point and she drops to soft grass, shakes free of her girl flesh like water on her coat; and a small, white, wolf bounds into the woods.

 

And she’s not scared anymore, because she’s free to run, her only sadness comes when she howls and there is no answer.

 

But every month when she sheds her skin and runs wild she calls to the night sky.

 

After four months there is an answering howl.

 

And then a second.

 

**

 

The tawny wolf and the black wolf that bound out of the forest towards her both vastly dwarf her in size, and there is a moment where she worries that if they attack her she wouldn’t do well in the fight. The tawny one is nearly twice her size, and the black one even bigger. But the black one looks as honestly surprised as something with canine facial muscles can.

 

 _“You’re like us,”_ says the voice of a boy inside her head, clear as bell, and likely no older than she is.

 

“ _Good, I was getting bored with just this guy around,”_ a second boys’ voice tones in her head. And Annie thinks this may be the single happiest moment of her life.

 

The three of them bound into the forest together; and when the sun comes up they leave together as a small blonde girl, flanked by a tall, dark haired boy, and a shorter, muscular blonde boy.

 

Annie opens her mouth to say something, anything, about how happy she is to have found people just like her, but the two boys exchange a look and then fold her into their arms.

 

So Annie finds her pack.

 

**

 

She is a wolf for close to a year. And her father drinks more, disappears more often, misses deadlines. And above all never looks her in the eye anymore.

 

She wakes up in the middle of the night to her father sitting on the edge of her bed, head in his hands and the smell of whiskey heavy on him.

 

“Dad?” She asks softly into the darkness, rubbing at one eye.

 

“This world is a fucking nightmare,” Her father says hollowly, “And it’ll take every chance it can to shit on you. Don’t you ever forget that, baby girl.”

 

“…What?”

 

He reaches out, hands closing over hers, face still hidden in the shadows.

 

And then in the morning he is simply gone. She stands in the kitchen, in the blue pajamas he’d bought her to replace the pair that were too bloodstained to save after the night she was attacked, and looks at the handwritten note and the envelope full of money. The note is just another apology from her father, and a promise to send more money every month, but mostly it’s goodbye.

 

She puts down the money and calls Reiner and Bertholdt.

 

They’re both at her front door in less than fifteen minutes, not asking questions, just once again curling protectively around her.

 

If Annie wasn’t sure before, she’s sure now that she loves them.

 

**

 

This whole thing is not at all the way these things are supposed to go.

 

The three of them are utterly inseparable. They walk to classes together, most often with Annie in between the two boys, one arm linked with each of them.

 

Most girls find one person, and pair off with them. But most girls are not wolves, and these boys are her pack.

 

And it seems natural, even it isn’t strictly speaking normal, when the three of them trail into the woods together on a night without a full moon; laughing and throwing away their clothing as they go. She doesn’t really care about normal, because her boys are kissing her and touching her hair and trying to be as physically close to her as they can without being able to actually melt into her skin.

 

Later  the three of them are lying in the grass, staring up at the night sky, limbs tangled together, Reiner and Bertholdt each with a hand joined to one of Annie’s, their free hands laced together atop her stomach.

 

“Where are you going after High school?” Bertholdt asks out loud, even though they can have whole conversations without actually speaking, but she adores him for it. Annie shifts a little, foot brushing against Reiner’s calf.

 

“I’m applying to Trost University.”

 

“All right.” Bertholdt nods.

 

“All right?”

 

“We’re coming with you.” He says solemnly, Reiner presses a soft kiss to the top of Annie’s hair.

 

“Of course we’re coming with you,” Reiner adds.

 

**

 

 

It’s not so much that Annie questions whether or not Reiner and Bertholdt love her, they’re a pack, they’re a family. And they do, after all, come with her to Trost. But she feels like there’s a disconnect forming, like the two of them are growing closer and she is being left on the outside looking in on them.

 

Because when they move to Trost, Reiner and Bertholdt get an apartment together.

 

“We didn’t think you would want to live with us.” Bertholdt says, his face open, honest.

 

“It’s a pretty small place to share with twohuge, smelly guys.” Reiner nods solemnly.

 

Annie shrugs, scraping her thumbnail across the cardboard sleeve of her take-away coffee cup.

 

“Does sound pretty awful,” She agrees, working to suppress the disappointment in her voice. A look passes between the two boys and then Bertholdt puts a light hand on her wrist as he smiles gently at her.

 

“But you know you’re welcome over all the time.”

 

“We’ll even make you a key, Shorty.” Reiner grins, tapping her nose and making a ‘boop’ sound, and Annie smiles, in spite of herself.

 

“You guys are idiots.” She tells them.

 

**

 

And this is, of course, how Annie once again finds herself on her own in territory entirely unfamiliar to her.

 

 

Because that's the way these stories always go.

 


	2. The Loneliness and the Scream

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The first week they live together Marco and Annie barely speak, which has nothing to do with Marco and everything to do with the fact that Annie has barely interacted with anyone she wasn’t either related to or in a pack with other than what has been strictly necessary. "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Without the beta-ing prowess of suchaprince this trash would be even more unreadable than it already is. 
> 
> Let that sink in.

**Chapter One:**

**The Loneliness and the Scream**

**

_“Can you hear the road from this place?_

_Can you hear footsteps? Voices?_

_Can you see the blood on my sleeve?_

_I have fallen in the forest. Did you hear me?_

_In the loneliness? Oh, the loneliness_

_And the scream to prove to everyone_

_That I exist”_

_\- “The loneliness and the scream” – Frightened Rabbit_

**

 

 

It takes a lengthy search, but eventually Annie finds an apartment she thinks she wouldn’t hate living in. It’s close enough to campus, a two-story townhouse, with huge windows in the living room looking out into the forest, two bedrooms, a full kitchen, and the kind of bathtub you could submerge in up to your eyelids.

 

But the only way she can afford it is to get a roommate, and unfortunately the only two people in the known world that Annie truly gets along with have moved in with each other.

 

However, getting a roommate, even one who is a complete stranger, is preferable to living in the school bus yellow Yugo she inherited from her father. So Annie puts an ad out online and hopes that someone she can at least tolerate will respond to it.

 

It takes roughly four hours before she gets an email regarding the listing, and a day later there’s a knock on the front door of the apartment.

 

The tall, dark haired, freckled boy behind the door grins like a light bulb going off when she opens it.

 

“Annie, right? I’m Marco,” He holds out his hand, like this is an interview or something, and Annie takes it almost primly. Marco smells like Earl Grey tea and night blooming Jasmine. Sweet, but with something of the dark under it.

 

 _Not normal then._ She thinks. _But not a wolf, either_.

 

Marco walks through the apartment ooh-ing and aah-ing over the architecture and the natural light, while Annie watches him, trying to figure out just what the hell he is. She hasn’t had experience with many supernaturals aside from her pack. But with that scent, she knows he must be something.

 

She realizes he’s saying something, has _been_ saying something, and snaps back to reality.

 

“Huh?” Annie says, in response to the expectant look on the boy’s face.

 

“Umm… I really like the place…? I’d like to live here…? I mean, if that’s not a problem…?” Marco is blushing, rubbing at the back of his neck.

 

“I dunno. Is it a problem?” She raises an eyebrow, living with a boy _could_  be problematic, she supposes, and it’s not like she doesn’t have enough boys in her life.

 

“Oh…” He gets the implication of her expression without her explaining it and laughs nervously, “No… no. I mean, I’m gay.”

 

“When do you want to move in?”

 

Marco grins like a god damn lunatic and hugs her. She sighs against him, “We’re gonna need to work on the hugging thing.”

 

**

 

The first week they live together Marco and Annie barely speak, which has nothing to do with Marco and everything to do with the fact that Annie has barely interacted with anyone she wasn’t either related to or in a pack with other than what has been strictly necessary. Marco studies in the living room, and Annie studies in her bedroom. Annie showers at night, Marco showers in the morning. They are basically never in the same room with each other.

 

Until the first weekend of their living together, and Annie wakes up on a Saturday at promptly 10 am to a firm knock on her door. She pads over to it, all disheveled blonde hair and stretched out old sweatshirt she inherited from Bertholdt, and opens her door, rubbing furiously at her eyes with the heel of her hand. Marco is already dressed and smiling, and most importantly, holding a plate of blueberry pancakes.

 

“What are you?” She blurts out, his grin doesn’t even falter.

 

“Your roommate. And it’s Pancake Day.” Annie stares pointedly at the plate in his hand, wheels in her head still visibly turning.

“You made me pancakes.”

 

“I did.”

 

“Marry me.” Marco laughs at that, and it’s a ridiculously infectious noise, because she smiles a little, in spite of herself.

 

“It would end in tears honey, now come downstairs and eat.”

 

She stares after him for a moment, before tucking her hands into the stretched out sleeves of her sweater and following him down the stairs.

 

**

 

She likes Marco even if she has no idea what he is.

 

He stress bakes _,_ loves Jimmy Stewart movies, and he hums while he’s studying. He lets his music play even when he isn’t in the room and never mocks her when she doesn’t recognize the song or band. He doesn’t ask where she disappears to one night a month. He introduces her to video games, knocks on her door when she holes up in her room for extended periods of time, and will on occasion bodily lift her down the stairs to the kitchen table, push a plate in front of her and utter a firm “eat.”

It occurs to her that he’s the first real friend she’s ever had.

 

**

 

Reiner makes captain of the Rugby team, which is no real surprise since he got into University of Trost on an athletic scholarship, and Bertholdt seems to have involved himself in close to a hundred academic clubs.

 

It’s nearly a month and a half into the semester before Annie hears from either of them outside of a full moon, and close to three months before she winds up in their flat. It’s a small studio apartment piled nearly to the ceiling with Bertholdt’s books and the two boys make a thousand excuses for it.

 

Reiner points out lamely that she’s probably glad that she doesn’t have to live with them in this mess, and Annie forces a smile, makes some sound of agreement from her perch on the edge of their bed.

 

Mostly she tries not to be jealous, or to dwell on how they seem even closer now. Always a hand on each other, shoulders pressed together, while they’ve successfully stayed at least an arm’s length from her nearly the entire time she’s been in the apartment.

 

Annie nearly jumps out of her skin when Bertholdt wraps an arm around her shoulder, pressing a soft kiss against her forehead.

 

“Sorry we haven’t seen you much. We miss you.” He tells her. Annie makes a small, acknowledging hum and lets him pull her further into his arms and backwards onto the mattress.

 

The bed creaks slightly under Reiner’s weight as he settles onto it next to them.

 

“How’s your new place?” The blond asks her. Annie attempts a shrug, but realizes that it’s not particularly noticeable with Bertholdt all but wrapped around her.

 

“It’s all right, roommate is nice enough.”

 

“Is she cute?”

 

“ _He_ ’s adorable.” Reiner glances over at that, eyebrow raised.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Mmm, and covered in freckles. Also he cooks.”

 

“Bert, I think the freckled chef is going to steal our girlfriend.” Reiner says gravely.

 

“Oh?” Bertholdt’s punctuation is a small squeeze at her hip and Annie smiles a little.

 

“The freckled chef is gay.” Reiner makes an exaggerated sigh of relief, which Annie appreciates, even if she doesn’t entirely believe.

 

Because things are different now.

 

Whether she likes it or not.

 

After they make half hearted excuses for how they really _would_ ask her to stay over, but as she can see the place is so small, after all _they_ barely fit in it. And Annie pretends not to mind, says she has an exam first thing in the morning anyway.

 

When she gets home Marco doesn’t ask any questions when she settles onto the couch next to him in complete silence, and after a moment he simply wraps an arm around her shoulders.

 

**

 

“Using a corrosive weapon isn’t going to work on that one, don’t you have anything incendiary?” Marco asks, hunched over his controller, eyes narrowed at the screen.

 

“I don’t know… maybe? I usually leave elemental weapons for you and just punch everything.” Annie replies, knees tucked up to her chest, arms wrapped awkwardly around them to hold her controller.

 

“You could have been a siren class too, but you wanted to be the psycho.”

 

“I _like_ the psycho.” She tells him, pulling hard on the right trigger on her controller.

 

“What’s an Armored Titan anyway?” He asks, eyes not leaving the screen.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Your shirt.” She usually doesn’t pay much attention to what she wears, but she glances quickly down at her chest and registers the image of a monster smashing through a wall with ‘Armored Titan’ spelled in flames above it on a t-shirt clearly much too large for her.

 

“Reiner’s metal band from high school. Look out for the sniper.”

 

“Honey, do you own any clothes that aren’t from one of your boyfriends? There’s a new grenade mod over here if you want it.”

 

“Thanks. I have some things that aren’t… why?”

 

“No reason, no reason. Other than I’m taking you shopping on Friday because you need a clothing intervention.” Annie wrinkles her nose slightly.

 

“So now you’re clothing _and_ feeding me? What are you, my mother?”

 

“I just want what’s best for my little girl. Now would you kindly punch some of these freaks out of my way? It’s making it hard to snipe people”

 

“Okay Mom.”

 

**

 

Things reach a kind of stasis. Annie has practically given up on figuring out what Marco is, other than her roommate, and really, her only friend. She sees Reiner and Bertholdt even less, and stops pretending to be surprised when they cancel plans with her.

 

“You’re home more now.” Marco casually remarks, clicking through channels at a speed that makes her wonder if he’s actually registering what’s on the television.

 

“You know what they say about threesomes…” Annie mumbles from her perch at the end of the couch, knees and hands tucked up into the folds of Bertholdt’s old sweatshirt. Marco tilts his head to look at her, eyebrows slightly drawn.

 

“You always pick a favorite?”

 

“You always pick a favorite,” she echoes and he frowns.

 

“Platonic roommate cuddle?” Annie makes a small noise that sounds more annoyed than she actually is and slides across the cushions to prop her head against his shoulder as he pats her head absently. It doesn’t matter what he is. He’s Marco, who smells like night blooming jasmine and earl grey tea, and he’s all she has. She tugs the sleeve of her sweatshirt roughly against the corner of her eyes. “You okay?”

 

“This is a sad show.”

 

“Yeah. Professor Utonium really shouldn’t let his daughters fight crime. They’re only in kindergarten.”

 

“What a dick” Annie agrees.

 

And this is what passes for normal for the next two months, until the first rain of the year.

 

The road is wet, and the Yugo’s tires are old, and the windshield wipers are practically decoration at this point. Annie has great reflexes, but not enough to counter nature and inertia.

 

And then she’s in the doorway of her apartment, soaked to the bone, cradling an Irish setter nearly as big as she is in her arms, and sobbing out Marco’s name until he comes skidding down the stairs.

 

Marco looks between his roommate, who’s biggest range of emotion has been frowning and frowning more, who is now crying almost hysterically, and the large, limp, red dog she has clutched to her as she slides to the floor, face buried in its fur.

 

“The road was wet. I couldn’t stop.”

  
  
“Annie…” Marco says gently, reaching a hand out to rest lightly on her head as he kneels next to her.

 

“I couldn’t stop. I don’t know how to fix it. How do I fix it? Tell me what to do, Marco…”

 

“Annie.” He says again, his tone still gentle, but firm enough that she looks up from the body in her arms at him. “I can fix it. Do you trust me?”

 

“…What?”

 

“I can fix it. It’s going to be okay. I can fix it. But you have to do something for me okay? I’ll need you to anchor me. I can only do it if I have a strong anchor. Will you do that for me, Annie?”

 

“I don’t understand…” She mumbles after a minute, and Marco smiles.

 

“That’s okay. Just give me your hand.” Annie frowns, still not comprehending, but it’s Marco so she disengages one hand from the dog’s fur to place lightly in his outstretched palm. “Just don’t let go, all right? I’ll be back in a minute, I promise.”

 

“Where are you going?” His answer is to firmly lace his fingers with hers, placing his other hand on the dog’s side and closing his eyes, brows furrowed in concentration. She opens her mouth to ask him what the hell is happening and stops abruptly, noticing the soft pulse of blue light in the veins of her arm, running up to where her hand meets his, under the skin of his wrist and up his arms.

 

She loses track of how long she’s sat there, staring at the pulse, trying desperately to understand what this means. But then there’s a quiet whine, and the soft thumping noise of a tail against hardwood floor, and the dog is gently licking her cheek and Marco is laughing. And she understands all of a sudden exactly what he is.

 

“Looks like we just became parents,” he grins, ruffling the dog’s fur lightly.

 

“Marco… I have something to tell you-“ she blurts out quickly and he tips his head at her.

 

“It had better be something besides the wolf thing, like that you’re dropping out of bioscience to take up pottery or something.”

 

She all but gapes at him around the dog that is now excitedly nuzzling at her neck and face.

 

“…You knew?”

 

“What, you mean it wasn’t obvious?” When she stares at him in shocked silence he laughs, “The dog’s name is Rose, by the way.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Because I said so. And I’m the one who went and got her.”

 

“That’s fair.” Annie concedes.

 

**

 

“There’s a party tonight. I told my friend we’re going.” Marco says in the same tone he would remind Annie that they’ve run out of milk. She puts down her biology book and attempts to shift on the couch to face him despite the lack of room with the dog half splayed across her knees.

 

“I’m sorry. What?’

 

“My friend Christa from Sociology. Party tonight. You. Me. Going.”

 

“No.” Annie replies flatly, re-opening her book. And she thinks maybe that will be the end of it, because Marco is completely silent, but then there is a finger prodding her in the ribs and she gives a surprised yelp, that is instantly mimicked by Rose. “What?”

 

“Young lady. If you aren’t in school then you’re here moping about your monster truck sized boyfriends. And it isn’t healthy. So god help you Annie Leonhardt, but you are going out tonight and you are going to speak to people you don’t live with.”

 

“But…” he doesn’t let her finish, all but prying the textbook from her hands.

 

“But nothing, you get up stairs and change.” Annie swipes at the book, despite him holding it clearly out her reach, and her being good and properly pinned to the cushions under Rose’s weight.”

 

“What’s wrong with what I’ve got on?” Marco composes his features into his most charming, diplomatic smile.

 

“Nothing! Nothing, you look so pretty! Only….”

 

“Only what?”

 

“Maybe don’t wear those Mom-jeans?”

 

“Mom-jeans? These are really comfortable you know. What’s that even supposed to mean? Mom-jeans…” Marco reaches his free hand out to lightly pat her head.

 

“Absolutely nothing. You’re so pretty. Now maybe go upstairs and put on that blue dress I picked out for you. And remember that you look less scary with your hair down.”

 

“What are you, my fairy godmother?” She half mumbles, managing to disengage from the dog and the couch and pad over to the stairs.

 

“Obviously I’m your fairy Godmother.” Marco tells her, his face utterly serious despite the full grown Irish Setter clambering into his lap. “And a little lip gloss couldn’t hurt either, Cinderella.”

 

She groans by means of an answer and all but drags herself up the stairs to her room.

 

 

**

 

The party is walking distance from their flat, and it’s probably for the best, since Annie fully intends to drink the entire contents of that place, and, piece of shit that it is, she’d rather not wrap the Yugo around a lamp post.

 

It’s easily the most well kept house on the block, despite the fact that there is a half rusted panel van (hand painted, faded letters, spelling out ‘Kirschtein Exterminations’) parked resolutely in the middle of the front lawn.

 

While the surrounding houses have barely kept hedges, and grass that is more brown than any other color, this one has an immaculately manicured lawn, more flowers than Annie honestly knows the name of, and a properly dignified looking Magnolia tree.

 

“Wow… someone’s into gardening.” Annie says under her breath, Marco makes a slightly bewildered nod before reaching forward to ring the doorbell.

 

The door sweeps open, unleashing a wave of bass and a man singing high enough that her ears almost can’t register it as noise. Two girls stand in the door frame, the smaller, blonde and grinning from ear to ear, and the second tall, brunette, and looking deeply inconvenienced by the two people standing in front of her.

 

“Marcoooo,” the tiny blonde all but sings out “I’m so glad you could make it to our engagement party!” Annie glances behind the two girls to the inside of the party, some kid honest to god has a lampshade on his head and is dancing like his life depends on it, a brunette girl is being cheered on as she rapidly downs an entire can of Pringles.

 

“Engagement party...?” Annie asks

 

“It’s a keggar,” The brunette says flatly, “But with doilies.” the smaller girl makes an indignant yelp, swatting the brunette lightly on the arm.

 

“Ymir!” The taller girl shrugs.

 

“What? I didn’t even want doilies” She adjusts her gaze to the pair standing awkwardly on the doorstep. “Come on in, welcome to the shit storm. There’s beer … everywhere. Just everywhere.” As she stalks away from the other girl there is the distinct mumbling of “Why are there so many people in my house? Why do we know all these people? Why do I have to do things?” Annie is pretty sure she likes the brunette a lot.

 

Marco chews slightly at his lower lip before holding his arm out to her, an almost sheepish grin on his face.

 

“Let’s go get drunk?” Annie smiles despite herself, slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow.

 

“Yeah, all right Prince Charming.”

 

There are more people in this little house than Annie has seen in one place in her entire life and she’s honestly a little glad for Marco at her side. Crowds are definitely not her strong point.

 

“There’s a linebacker coming at you.” Marco says mildly.

 

“Rugby player, actually,” She tells him before the hurricane that is Reiner Braun has descended, yanking her clear off her feet and into his arms.

 

“Shorty! I didn’t think you were coming!” He booms as he pulls her into a bear hug. Marco points at the hulk of a boy, mouthing _boyfriend?_ Annie rolls her eyes, mouths back _One of them._ He is smiling and excusing himself to a different part of the house before she can beg him to not wander off.

 

“I mean, you’re out in public! You never come out in public!” Reiner sets her back on her feet, his arms are still encircling her and he is grinning like a goddamn maniac “You need to see the fucking stash of booze these crazy broads have.”

 

“I guess one of those girls is friends with my roommate.” Reiner’s death grip is finally released enough for her lungs to expand to full capacity, so of course there is a second pair of arms wrapping around her waist from behind and someone’s chin coming to rest on top of her head. And for a moment she relaxes a bit, because honestly between the two of them is the most comfortable she ever feels.

 

“Which one was your roommate? The cute one with the freckles?” Reiner asks, glancing in the direction Marco had retreated.

 

“Don’t you dare. That boy is my brave little soldier and I’m not having you corrupt him,” Annie says, scowling. Bertholdt’s quiet laugh vibrates against her back. She’s too stubborn to admit how much she honestly misses the two of them since they moved in together without her.

 

“HEY BRAUN!” Some kid with a buzz cut is shouting from the stairs to the second floor. “WAGNER IS TRYING TO DO A KEG STAND!”

 

Reiner let’s out a loud woop.

 

“THAT STUPID FUCKING DIRT BIKE. THIS I GOTTA SEE!” He shouts back, almost immediately disengaging from Annie and barreling towards the stairs. Bertholdt drops a light kiss on her cheek and gives her an apologetic smile before following after him.

 

She looks around for anyone she might recognize, and thinks not for the first time that maybe she ought to actually pay attention to the people she has classes with. At least the brunette had been right about there being beer, literally, everywhere. She locates an unopened can on a table, something so ridiculously generic that it tastes more like water than anything else. When she finally sees Marco he’s talking to some ass with two-tone hair and a popped collar, and has so obviously gotten way more drink in him than she has.

 

“Annie! Anniiiiiieeeee!!” Marco excitedly hiccups, catching the sleeve of her jacket and yanking her to him, he puts his arm around her shoulders, gesturing to the boy in front of him with his other hand, the one holding a half full can of beer, in the process of sloshing over the sides. “Look who I met!” Annie glances between the boys, trying to discern if she is supposed to actually guess who this guy is.

 

“Jean Kirschtein,” Popped collar says, and God help her, he does gun hands. Annie wonders if she can light him on fire using just her brain.

 

“Wait … like Kirschtein Exterminations? That’s your fucking eyesore on the lawn?” Now Jean is grinning.

 

“You know it.” She looks sharply at Marco.

 

“Marco, I forbid this.”

 

“What? Anniiiiiieeeee,” Marco, her sweet little Marco, how has he gotten this drunk, this quickly? “He has a _car_ ”.

 

“A car? A car!” She points in the direction of the door, “That thing is structurally unsound. And this guy,” Jean winks, gun fingers again, she’s going to kill him. “This guy is _clearly_ a douche.” Jean doesn’t look offended and for some reason that makes her even angrier. Marco on the other hand, is making the most ridiculous approximation of the face Rose makes when she’s trying to get scraps of their dinners. All big pleading eyes, cartoonish-ly adorable. “Whatever,” She huffs under her breath, “You idiots have fun”.

 

Marco gives her a small squeeze, and she good-naturedly shoves him off her before making her escape. She promised Marco they would go out, more for him than anything else, the boy deserves to have a good time. He’s her friend, she’ll be a sport and stick this out. But only if there’s something better to drink than this. Out of the corner of her eye she catches Reiner and Bertholdt standing on the upper landing, Reiner’s arm casually looped around the other boy’s waist. Maybe they have vodka here.

 

“We do.” Ymir says, Annie think she ought to be surprised at the way the other girl has practically materialized, but she isn’t. It could be because the brunette smells like the forest and moonlight and there’s a sort of silent understanding that passes between the two of them. “I never could stand a cute blonde in peril, I’ll show you where the good stuff is”.

 

**

 

Annie is three hours into this damn party, holding a glass full of three types of liquor, four types of fruit juices, and two small umbrellas that Christa, the small blonde from before, had insisted on arranging in her drink once she’d found Annie and Ymir breaking into the hard liquor stash in the kitchen. Annie idly removes the pink umbrella, tucking it behind her ear, before taking a long drink of the bizarre concoction in her hands.

 

Further away she can hear people drunkenly bellowing along to the music about being young and lighting something or other on fire. She thinks she’s pretty out of touch with music these days. She thinks she doesn’t really want to get in touch with music these days.

 

There is a shift of weight on the couch next to her, someone settling onto the edge of a cushion, and she eyes them over the remaining electric blue umbrella protruding from the top of her glass. The boy sitting next to her is flushing five shades of red and nervously toying with his own glass of liquor. Shaggy blonde hair, big blue eyes. Cute, pretty even, though completely not her type. After all, Annie has thus far gone in for huge boys built like monster trucks that are more than happy to slog her over their shoulder on their way up to the bedroom. But he _is_ cute.

 

“Not much into parties?” He laughs nervously and Annie raises an eyebrow at him, giving him another once over. He’s really dressed way too nice for this party in his button up shirt and blazer, most everyone else is in t-shirts with references she doesn’t understand.

 

“Are you?”

 

“No, no,” He admits with a shake of his head. _Cute. Definitely cute._ “But they are, and we sort of come as a packaged set, I guess.” He nods in the direction of a brunette boy and an Asian girl arm-wrestling on the dining room table.  “But you know… they’re doing their own thing.”

 

Annie nods sagely, taking a sip from the spiraled purple straw in her drink.

 

“Ah… that’s the problem with threesomes. You always pick a favorite.”

 

The boy manages to flush an even brighter red somehow, waving his free hand emphatically.

 

“Huh? What? No… definitely no… friends. Just friends.”

 

“Mmm.” She responds, digging a pineapple out of her drink. The music is changed and oh Christ, she knows this one. She actually knows this song. She’d only heard it on loop drifting out of Marco’s bedroom for close to a week a few months back. She groans, loudly.

 

“So not a fan of ‘Call Me Maybe’ then?” He laughs. Annie shakes her head, making the room swim slightly.

 

“No. But my roommate is.”

 

“Ah.”

 

The silence between them is awkward and getting increasingly longer. She's beginning to remember why she limits social interaction to pack and her roommate.

 

"Heeey," He says, and she returns her gaze to him, "We match." He must be grasping at straws. He makes a small gesture between the two of them. His blue shirt, her blue dress, certainly he too has an abundantly helpful roommate to tell him how the color brings out his eyes. And it does, and they are lovely eyes, but it's a ridiculously weak attempt at conversation and Annie just sighs.

 

"Why are you even talking to me?" He frowns, running a hand through his hair.

 

"Well, my Granddad always said you never let a pretty girl drink alone... and you _are_ the prettiest girl here," There's no irony in his voice at all; it catches her completely by surprise.

 

She sets her drink on the ground with a resolute clank and gets to her feet, grabbing his wrist and hauling him up after her. To his credit he doesn't protest, lets her pull him through the congregation of people and into the first floor bathroom. Annie all but shoves him back against the door, going up on her toes to kiss him as she simultaneously clicks the door lock in place.

 

He makes a slightly startled noise against her mouth.

 

"What is even going on right now?"

 

"Pretty sure we're going to drunkenly make out in this bathroom like every cliché college movie ever".

 

“Oh.” He manages to get out before she’s on the tips of her toes again, pressing her hips flush against his and pulling his face down to hers.  The bathroom is practically the size of a broom closet, and he barely has to move at all when he takes the initiative to slide his hands down to her thighs and hoist her onto the bathroom sink. Annie moves her knees apart, reaching a hand between them to yank him closer to her by his belt.

 

“I don’t even know your name…” He mumbles against her mouth.

 

“Annie.” She says shortly, hitching a leg around his hips and starting in on the buttons of his shirt.

 

And he honestly pulls back a little, holding his hand out expectantly.

 

“Armin.”

 

Annie looks at him in complete and utter bewilderment.

 

“…Are you honestly trying to shake my hand right now?” He goes red nearly all the way to his ears.

 

“I… umm… it’s polite.”

 

“Does this really look like a polite situation?”

 

“…Not especially”

 

She stares at him another moment with an expression that can only be read as complete disapproval before she tangles her fingers in his hair, pulling his face to her with ~~a~~ enough force that when their mouths meet their teeth clack together. Armin stumbles forward slightly, bracing a hand against her thigh and humming slightly into the kiss.

 

There is a sharp sound of a fist knocking hard on the door and Armin’s hands fly off her like her skin has electrocuted him, the guiltiest look in the world on his face.

 

“All right you horny assholes, I know you’re in there. You don’t have to go home but you sure as fuck can’t stay here.” Ymir is all but yelling on the other side of the door. Her foot steps retreat as she continues shouting at the rest of the party, “Party’s over. Get the hell out of my house. Don’t make me throw you out.”

 

Annie sighs, hopping off the sink and brushing past Armin on her way out of the tiny bathroom.

 

**

 

“Heeeeeeey you,” Marco grins, looping an arm around her shoulder when she finally finds him outside the house. “Hear you ducked off somewhere with a cute blonde.” He’s grinning from ear to ear, and leaning heavily on her as they may their way across the lawn and towards the street. Annie shrugs as well as she can with nearly his entire weight on her. “Aw, don’t kiss and tell then?”

 

Annie raises an eyebrow at him.

 

“You going to remember it if I tell you about it now?” Marco frowns, pondering this a moment.

 

“Guess not… well, let’s go home Derek Hale.” Annie groans.

 

“Why am I Derek Hale?” He laughs giving her a small squeeze.

 

“Because you are.” Marco tells her.

 

“I really hate that you started watching Teen Wolf.” she sighs in defeat and leads him down the road to their apartment.

 


	3. You look like you could use a boy who doesn’t use his fist, but starts speaking at the right time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "It takes a week of this before she gives in, because she’s lonely and utterly sick of it, and digs the folded scrap of paper out of her purse and dials the number on it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took forever, because I am garbage, and I don't have a better excuse. Especially since all y'all have been truly lovely, and I'm actually more than a little overwhelmed by the positive response a single chapter and a prologue has gotten from you guys. So Seriously. Thank you.
> 
> Other things of note:
> 
> This story would be a lot worse than it is if it weren't for suchaprince beta-ing it for me, so let that sink in.
> 
> Also, I've got a tumblr if any of you hip kids want to check that out, you can find me here:
> 
> http://madteagirl.tumblr.com/

**Chapter 2:**

**You look like you could use a boy who doesn’t use his fist, but starts speaking at the right time**

******

_“You look around to see the faces and the hands of all the kids you never give another thought to in your lifetime._

_I've seen you dancing and you look like you could use a boy who doesn't use his fist, but starts speaking at the right time.”_

_\- “This Place has got no Soul, kid” - Voxtrot_

******

 

It’s the first Saturday since she’s moved here that she hasn’t woken up to either the smell of pancakes, or being carried down the stairs to said pancakes. It’s also the first Saturday she can remember sleeping in past 10AM. Rose is stretched across Annie’s feet, and thumps her tail when she notices the girl waking, proceeding to crawl towards Annie on her belly and enthusiastically lick her fingertips.

 

“All right. All right. I’m up.” Annie mumbles, attempting to disengage from the energetic Irish Setter and roll out of her bed. She pads down the stairs and into the living room, rubbing absently at her eyes.

 

Marco is curled up on the couch, all but cocooned into a blanket, his face is practically gray. He makes a weak attempt at smiling when he sees her.

 

“Anniiiiiie, my angel of light and beauty. I need you to do me a favor. You need to make me Kraft macaroni and cheese and put on a Disney movie, but very quietly.”

 

She lofts an eyebrow at him from the stairs.

 

“So would you say you’re _very_ hung over, then?” She asks. Marco nods, winces at the movement, and tucks himself further into the blankets.

 

“You’re my only hope. Please save me. But very very quietly. Please.”

 

**

 

Marco seems slightly more alive with the bowl of bright orange noodles balanced on his knees in front of him.

 

“I love you. You know I love you, right? But you have to know that Anastasia isn’t a Disney movie.” He mumbles.

 

“… I do now.” Annie replies, settling as delicately as she can next to him on the couch. “To be fair. You have a shelf of cartoon princess movies. I just grabbed the first one I saw.”

 

“I have nothing polite to say in response to that.” He gingerly digs into his food “So I heard tell you dragged off some adorable blonde last night. How’d that work out for you?” She shrugs

 

“A little past first base I guess.”

 

“I’m a little impressed … so when will you be seeing this cute, normal human sized, creature again?”

 

“Probably never.” Annie says, stretching. “I only know his first name. And it’s not like I’m going to put out a Craig’s list missed connection. ‘Hey we drunkenly pawed at each other on a terrifying brunette’s sink. Let’s do that again sometime.’ ” Marco laughs a little, and looks like he instantly regrets it. “Besides … he was nice. I’d eat him alive.”

 

“Boys like that you know.”

 

“Don’t wag your eyebrows at me, you look like a pervert.”

 

“I wasn’t the one groping the nice blonde boy last night.” Marco says defensively and Annie rolls her eyes.

 

“Yeah okay. And how did it go with Lord Douche-enstein?”

 

“Kirschstein.”

 

“Bless you.”

 

“Oh you know … phone number … dinner in a couple of nights.” Marco really looks much too pleased with himself.

 

“You know he’s a hunter, right?”

 

“Yeah …. But wait, how did you?” He raises an eyebrow at the blonde, who gives a small shrug.

 

“I could smell it on him.”

 

“And what exactly did he smell like?”

 

“Gunpowder and whiskey.” Marco considers this with a not displeased look.

 

“And your cute blonde?”

“Sunlight.”

Marco slowly puts down the bowl of macaroni and cheese, turning to face his roommate.

 

“Wow…. So when’s the wedding?”

 

Annie slouches deep into the couch and covering her face with her hands, she can feel the blush creeping clean up to her ears.

 

“Shut up. Don’t look at me. I hate you.”

 

“Look Princess, you’re the one getting all Shakespeare on me.” Marco says defensively.

 

“I am going to go into the kitchen. And I am going to fry up every egg we have. And then I am just going to stand in there for an hour smacking pots and pans together.” Annie growls from behind the shield of her fingers. Marco winces at the idea of that.

 

“That’s just evil.”

 

“Shut up and watch your princess movie.”

 

**

 

It takes Marco all of Saturday to get over his hangover.

 

Annie humors him and cycles through close to half of his collection of Disney DVDs for him, bullies him into drinking water, and he whines pitifully at her when she has poptarts for dinner.

 

“I knew it. I knew you’d starve without me to take care of you.” He laments, wrinkling his nose at the slightly burnt rectangles she’s picking at.

 

“Hush.” She tells him “They’re cinnamon sugar.”

 

Sunday passes with little incident.

 

Jean calls in the late afternoon, and Marco bounces off to his room all but crooning into his phone and laughing, maybe a tad too loudly. Annie shrugs, un-pauses her game, reminds herself that she loves Marco and wants him to be happy while she attempts to not steer her shuttle into a pool of lava.

 

At some point a text comes through from Reiner reading:

 

_Hey Shorty, where did you disappear to the other night?_

 

She stares at it in silence for a full five minutes before she texts back

 

_Headache_

 

 

And tosses the phone over her shoulder.

 

**

 

 Monday comes and Annie slumps into a desk in the third row as the church bells are clanging nine o’clock. Her professor is babbling happily, brunette ponytail bouncing as she scrawls the word “mutations” in huge block text on the chalkboard. There is the smallest smudge of pale yellow on the bridge of her nose from where she shoves up her glasses with chalk covered fingertips and grins at the class with an almost manic level of glee.

 

Annie thinks, not for the first time, that it’s really far too early in the morning for this as she pulls her notebook out of her bag, opening it to a clean page.

 

Only there’s a neatly folded piece of paper that falls out of it when she does, and Annie stares at the thing sitting on her desk for a full minute before she picks it up and unfolds it. Scrawled in neat blue ink is:

“ _Hey I just met you. And this is crazy. But here’s my number, so call me maybe?”_ followed by seven digits. She blinks slowly at it, trying to piece together where it came from and for that matter, how it got in her notebook, before looking around the classroom for the culprit.

 

And there he is, two rows back from her.

 

All long-ish blonde hair and big blue eyes, smiling and giving her a small wave.

 

She turns around quickly, ears burning. Was he always in this class? She thinks not for the first time that she really ought to be paying better attention to the people around her.

 

Only not right now.

 

Right now she stares pointedly straight in front of her until the class finishes, and she gathers her things and all but bolts from the room.

 

**

 

 

“The nerve of that ass, giving you his phone number. He probably thinks you’re cute or something.” Marco says tonelessly, pawing through the jackets in their hallway closet.

 

“Sarcasm isn’t attractive on you.”

 

“That’s a lie and we both know it.” Marco retorts, holding two coats up, considering his reflection on the back of the closet door. “Blue or gray?”

 

“Blue. Did you miss the part where my notebook was closed and in my bag, but he somehow managed to get that note to me?” She asks, eyes fixed forward on the television.

 

“I think I’m going to go with the gray one.” Annie rolls her eyes. “Maybe he’s a street magician in his spare time. You should see if he can do the quarter behind the ear trick.”

 

“I can’t be sure…. But I don’t think you’re taking me particularly seriously.” She pauses the video game to level an entirely un-amused stare at him.

 

“All right then, this is me being serious.” Marco turns to face her, tugging on the gray jacket. “A cute, regularly sized boy, is interested in you. Your boyfriends are clearly morons who don’t know a good thing when it hits them in the face. So forget those losers and call the cute blonde. Now. How do I look?”

 

“Like I’m sad you don’t bat for my team.”

 

“Good. That’s what I’m going for. Do you have any plans for tonight?” Annie shrugs, taking the game off pause.

 

“Full moon tonight. So I’ve got roughly two hours of throwing murders of crows at sky racists before I don’t have opposable thumbs anymore.”

 

“Ohhhh. I totally forgot.” He makes an apologetic face which Annie entirely disregards. “I need to run upstairs. If Jean gets here be nice, okay?”

 

“I’m always nice.” Marco heaves an exasperated sigh and jogs up the stairs.

 

She hears Jean outside before he’s even knocked on the door, and already has it pulled open as he’s standing with his hand raised.

 

“Kirschtein.”  She says tonelessly.

 

“Heeeeeeeey Blondie.”

 

“Annie.”

 

“Sure. Why not.  Is Prince Charming ready?” Annie starts to open her mouth when Marco is sliding across the floor behind her.

 

“Yes, hi, sorry, had you know – hi” Marco is all but babbling, and Annie thinks that this is not unlike watching a car wreck, but to his credit Jean looks charmed by the whole thing, so Annie sighs and moves out of the way, pushing the door the rest of the way open. Marco smiles gratefully, reaching a hand out to ruffle her hair on his way out the door.

 

Annie stands in the doorway watching Marco trot down the stairs after Jean. And it is utterly conflicting. Because on the one hand she legitimately wants him to be happy, he’s her best friend after all, even if on the other hand … well Annie’s pretty sure she already can’t stand Jean. She thinks she ought to have said something encouraging, it’s what you’re supposed to do in these sorts of situations, isn’t it? But instead she’s just standing and watching them leave, like she’s Marco’s disapproving mother or something. Not that she doesn’t sometimes feel like she is.

 

“Hey!” Annie shouts. “Wear a condom!” Marco turns slowly to look at her, white as a sheet and eyes close to three times their normal size. Jean just grins like a god damn lunatic and gives her a thumbs up, before hauling Marco the rest of the way down the stairs and towards that eyesore of an extermination van.

 

She shakes her head and goes back to the video game.

 

**

 

Annie isn’t surprised to not find Reiner or Bertholdt in the forest, even if she can smell them on the wind.

 

She isn’t surprised when they continue to make excuses for why they never see each other anymore.

 

She isn’t surprised when Marco spends the next week grinning like a complete idiot and constantly on his phone, when he’s home at all.

 

It takes a week of this before she gives in, because she’s lonely and utterly sick of it, and digs the folded scrap of paper out of her purse and dials the number on it.

 

**

 

The phone rings two and a half times before a cautious sounding male voice picks up.

 

“Hello?”

 

“What are you doing? Right now?”  Annie asks, drumming her fingers on her kitchen counter.

 

“I mean I just got my laundry out of the dryer and- wait who _is_ this?”

 

“You really shouldn’t give people your phone number if you don’t want them calling you” She grumbles into the receiver, stepping over Rose en route to checking the refrigerator for the third time, as if its contents will have changed.

 

“Annie?” Armin all but squeaks on the other end. It’s a little charming that he manages to sound a mix of surprised and pleased.

 

“I assume, since you gave me your number, you wanted to go out, yes?”

 

“Oh! Yes, definitely yes. When’s good for you, like sometime this week or…?”

 

“What’s wrong with right now?”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line.

 

“I… I thought you were joking. Now is good, I can do now, umm if you text me your address I can pick you up?”

 

“You don’t have to, I have a car.”

 

“I want to! Really!” Annie smiles in spite of herself, definitely cute.

 

“All right, all right, you win.”

 

**

 

He’s honestly the last person Annie expected to have a motorcycle. She’s not even sure it’s him until he pulls off his helmet and grins at her from where she’s standing at the top of the stairs that lead down to the street.

 

She momentarily considers just going back inside the apartment and spending the rest of the night watching crime dramas. But he’s standing there, helmet under one arm, running his fingers through his hair and looking like some sort of shampoo commercial, and he’s cute, really cute, and she’s already down the steps and crossed the front lawn before she really processes that she’s walking.

 

“Hey, I’m, um, I’m glad you called.” Armin says, not quite able to maintain eye contact for longer than fifteen seconds. Annie shifts her gaze to the dark blue and silver Triumph he’s currently straddling; tries not think about the percentage of motorcycle fatalities every year.

 

“Nice bike.” She says, because it’s something _to_ say, she’s honestly a bit terrified of the thing.

 

“Do you ride?”

 

“No…” Annie makes a vague motion towards the Yugo in the driveway, she appreciates that Armin at least attempts to not look like he thinks her car is the most depressing thing he’s ever seen.

 

It definitely wins him points.

 

“I’ve never been on one … don’t laugh.”  Annie huffs, eyes fixed on her trainers.

 

He’s looking at her like what she’s just said is the most adorable thing he’s ever heard and she’s really not sure what do with that expression on his face, so she shifts uncomfortably, pulling at sleeves of her sweater.

 

“So then this is your first time?” He asks, retrieving the passenger helmet from the back of the bike and handing it to her. “That’s okay, I’ll be gentle with you.”

 

“Wow. You really just said that.” Armin turns five shades of red, ducking his face behind his own helmet.

 

“Oh Jesus. I didn’t mean it to come out like that. I just meant like … I’ll try not take fast turns and… please don’t go back in your house and never speak to me again.”

 

 

“I’m giving you a pass. This once.” She tells him, pulling on the helmet and swinging a leg over the bike so she can scoot onto the seat behind him, putting her hands almost primly on his waist. 

 

Armin grins over his shoulder at her before pulling on his own helmet. When the bike starts up and Armin steers it down the street, Annie completely flattens herself to his back, arms wrapped tight around his waist, eyes squeezed shut.

 

She tries to concentrate on the way he smells like sunlight, and with every small bump in the road reminds herself that she has fast reflexes and an accelerated ability to heal, and that she likely will not die on the back of this bike.

 

**

 

“We’re here … it’s okay to let go now.” Armin says not unkindly. Annie slowly opens her eyes, her fingers are nearly completely white from how tightly they are latched into his jacket. She takes a deep breath, slides shakily off the back of the bike and pulls off her helmet. “You okay?” He asks, all big blue eyes blinking in concern, and Annie just nods, stiffly.

 

No bones are broken. No one is dead. Everything is fine.

 

That was the most horrifying experience of her life.

 

Annie is a firm believer that humans travelling over a certain speed should have some sort of metal box protecting them. Even if it is an utter junk heap like the Yugo. It’s better than just human, road, and almost certain death.

 

But Armin does looks _painfully_ cute on it.

 

“Where…?” She says, still trying to get her bearings while he’s popping out the side stand and taking his keys out of the ignition.

 

“Oh umm… Coffee Shop? It’s open late, and I don’t know, coffee shops seem neutral and … non threatening. Unless you don’t like coffee… I probably should have asked if you like coffee…” He trails off looking increasingly less sure of himself and she almost smiles at that. She’s not sure she can remember a time someone has been so concerned about impressing her.

 

“It’s fine.” It comes out sounding harsher than she means for it to, Jesus, how do people do this normal interaction business? “It’s good. I like coffee.” She adds. “We going inside or what?”

 

“Y-yeah, of course.”

 

Then he’s ducking ahead of her, holding open the door, and honest to God, pushing a chair out for her before all but bouncing off to the counter to order them drinks.

 

She slips her cell phone out of her hoodie pocket and fires off a quick text to Marco.

 

  _Out with cute blonde. Still concerned I will eat him alive._

 

Despite knowing for a fact that Marco is out with Jean it takes him less than fives minutes to respond:

 

_DO IT._

Annie rolls her eyes, tucking her phone away as Armin returns to the table with two mugs roughly each the size of his head.

 

“I got you a vanilla latte, is that okay?” She agrees with a small humming noise, pulling the mug over to her.

 

“So can you pull quarters out of people’s ears?”

 

“What?!” He all but chokes on his coffee, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. Annie shrugs, taking a sip, deciding that she supposes the coffee here is all right.

 

“My roommate said to ask you about pulling quarters out of ears? I don’t know he’s weird sometimes. I’m not sure what that has to do with you managing to get that note inside my purse from clear across the room, but what do I know.”

 

“Are you … upset about that?”

 

“Would I be here if I was?”

 

“I can’t really tell with you, to be honest.” Armin says with a small laugh, shaking his head a little as he settles back in his chair.

 

“I was surprised more than anything I guess.” Annie traces her finger along the rim of her cup “I basically mauled you the last time I saw you.”

 

“I didn’t mind the mauling….” He rubs at the back of his neck, all lopsided grin, and it’s disturbing the way her heart practically flutters in her chest. “Mauling was kind of nice…”

 

She quickly averts her gaze to her coffee, from the way her ears are burning she knows that she has to be at least five shades of red. Which Annie finds utterly ridiculous.

 

He’s not her type, she reminds herself.

 

He looks about as threatening as rabbit.

 

But he’s sitting there looking at her like she’s the most amazing thing he’s ever seen and all she can think is _fuck._

“Yeah … well… suppose it wasn’t bad.” She says under her breath.

 

And he absolutely _grins_ at that.

 

“Look.” She says, nails making a small squeak against the ceramic of her mug under her tightening grip. “I’m not good at this whole date thing. I don’t really do dates. The only frame of reference I have is all the awful romantic comedies my roommate watches. And those are ridiculous. And someone always has some sort of weird disease or an accent or something. So I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing. Why are you laughing at me?”

 

Armin shakes his head.

 

“It’s just … you’re really cute.” He tells her, grin still firmly plastered across his face, and her face feels like it’s on fire. This is getting insane.

 

If she were staring any harder into her cup, she’s reasonably sure she would be boring a hole into the table. Annie isn’t certain how long she’s been looking fixedly downwards until she catches sight of a pair of large blue eyes on level with the table. Armin has brought his face down so his cheek rests on the tabletop to catch her gaze.

 

“Hey …” He says, “Don’t hide inside your coffee, promise to come out and I promise to try to stop making you uncomfortable, okay?”

 

Annie blinks at him before giving a small nod in response. Armin returns to his upright seated position and freezes, eyes wide and mouth making a small ‘oh’ shape.

 

“What are you…?” Annie glances over her shoulder, there’s a girl near the coffee bar who has rather obviously locked onto their table, and is likely the reason Armin has slouched down into his chair, one hand up to partially block his face.

 

“Did she see me?” He squeaks and Annie raises an eyebrow.

 

“The cute girl with the dark pigtails?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“I would say that’s a positive.” He makes a small whining  noise, sinking lower in his chair. “So….” Annie tips her head at him “ex-girlfriend?” Armin nods. “Recent?”

 

“Three months.”

 

“Messy breakup?”

 

“Sort of…”

 

“Do you need me to get you out of this?”  
  
“…What?”

 

“Do. You. Need me. To get you. Out. Of. This.”  He sits up in his chair, looking confused, before he looks in the direction of the brunette once more.

 

“Yes please.” Annie nods solemnly, pushing both their mugs to one side of the table before she reaches across the table and pulls him to her by his collar. It takes Armin a moment before he kisses her back, at first he is motionless, almost frozen, but then his hands are cupping her face and he’s leaning into the kiss.

 

And maybe she kisses him a bit longer than she means to, because he smells like sunlight and she feels not entirely unlike being drunk.

 

She wonders if the alcohol was really entirely to blame for the other night after all when she finally pulls back. Armin’s eyes are still closed and he’s still leaning slightly forward, almost expectantly.

 

“Is she still here?” Annie asks and he finally opens his eyes, glancing in the direction that the brunette has retreated.

 

“No…” he answers breathlessly

 

“Want to go somewhere else before she comes back?”

 

All he does is nod.

 

**

 

“Why Morphology?” Armin asks around the ice cream cone threatening to drip down the side of his hand. Annie shrugs, swiping her tongue across the cone strawberry ice cream she’s holding.

 

“You can’t fix something unless you know why it went wrong. " It nearly silent on the street they walk down aside from the wind rustling through the trees. It isn’t even remotely ice cream weather, and Annie shivers slightly, drawing herself deeper into her hoodie. Still, out in fall air with ice cream is preferable to inside the shop, packed with people, even if it was warm.

 

Armin considers this, managing to stop the trajectory of chocolate ice cream towards his sleeve.

 

“Yeah … but why?”

 

“You’re the one studying marine biology, what’s that all about? Have you ever even seen the ocean?” She retorts, devouring the last of her ice cream and crumpling the wrapper into a nearby trash can.

 

“Well no….” he says thoughtfully “But Eren’s mom took us to an aquarium once when we were kids. She bought the three of us otter sweatshirts.” Armin finishes his ice cream with more mess than Annie, and there is a smudge of chocolate at the corner of his mouth. She smiles in spite of herself, reaching a hand up to wipe away the brown swath of sugary residue with her thumb.

 

“Geez, who let’s you out on your own?” Annie says, with no real malice to her voice and Armin smiles with a small shrug.

 

“I had a good time tonight” he tells her, as Annie wipes her hands on her jeans.

 

“It wasn’t horrible.” She agrees.

 

“Can I see you again?” Annie frowns

 

“That’s a little abrupt…. wait…” She takes stock of her surroundings, the beat up yellow car parked in front of the split level townhouse. “ this is… my house… you walked me back to my house…” She looks back to him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion “what about your bike?”

 

“I can walk back to it.”

“What? Really? Why?”

 

“Kinda got the feeling you weren’t the biggest fan of it.” Annie fixes her eyes on her shoes, the burning in her ears is back.

 

“You didn’t have to.”

 

“It’s okay! Really!” Armin says quickly, waiting for her to look  back up at him, giving her arm a small nudge when she doesn’t. “So hey … when can I see you again.” She finally looks up, tugging the sleeves of her hoodie over her hands.

 

“When do you want to?”

 

“Tomorrow? Can I see you tomorrow?”

 

“Yeah, I guess” She says with forced nonchalance.

 

“Hey, Annie?”

 

“What?” Armin rubs at the back of his neck looking almost nervous.

 

“Can I kiss you?”

 

“Oh my God you nerd, you don’t need to ask”

 

The exasperation in her voice is clearly for show, and he grins from ear to ear as he leans into her.

 


End file.
